


Top of the Class

by romanticalgirl



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-11
Updated: 2013-05-11
Packaged: 2017-12-11 13:29:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/799261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being right isn't always the opposite of being wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Top of the Class

**Author's Note:**

> For [](http://musesfool.livejournal.com/profile)[**musesfool**](http://musesfool.livejournal.com/) who has mentioned this numerous times, for [](http://divajess.livejournal.com/profile)[**divajess**](http://divajess.livejournal.com/) who asked for it and for [](http://fox1013.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://fox1013.livejournal.com/)**fox1013** for inserting "mmmm"s and the like at just the right times.

“Miss Granger?” Everyone stopped filing from the room as Remus’s voice cut through the chatter.

Hermione turned slowly, her eyes flashing in a mixture of hurt and anger. “Yes, Professor?”

“You’ll need to stay after class.” His eyes lit on Ron and Harry and he gave them a small but definite shake of his head. “I’m sure your friends will wait for you back in the common room.”

A few snickers came from the Slytherin set, snide comments aimed at Ron and Harry not knowing what to do without Hermione being there to lead them around by the nose. Ron’s face flushed red enough to match his hair and Hermione was forgotten in the quick shuffle of threats and the deciding factor of a pick-up Quidditch game to grind Slytherin to dust. Hermione watched them go with her jaw set and her back straight before turning back to Professor Lupin.

“Yes, Professor?”

“I realize that you’re quite smart, Miss Granger, and that the constant refrain of you being the cleverest witch in your year must be a difficult song to be seduced by; however, I want it perfectly clear that I will not abide another outburst from you during class.”

“Yes, Professor.”

“You realize that our relationship outside of the school through the Order and my friendship with the Weasleys will not be an excuse for you to think that you can undermine my authority with any of the other students.”

Her jaw tightened. “Yes, Professor.”

Remus sighed. “Yes, Professor.” He shook his head and looked up at the ceiling. “You answer so precisely, yet I have a distinct impression that not a single thing I’ve said has gotten through to you.”

“I heard every word you said, Professor.”

“Heard, yes. Understood, accepted or took to heart, no.” He clapped his hands on his thighs and stood up. “Very well then. Come here, Hermione.”

“Pardon?”

“At last I’ve managed to say something you didn’t already know or suspect?” His smile curled mockingly. “Come here, Miss Granger.” She glanced toward the closed door then toward Remus before starting toward him. “Leave your books.”

She paused and placed her armful of books on one of the desks then proceeded to the front of the classroom, stopping on the opposite side of his desk. “Yes, Professor?”

“Do you know what you did that was wrong, Hermione?” His voice dropped, whisper-quiet. “Why you’re here. Why you’re to be punished?”

Her eyes darted to his, defiance giving way to surprise and arousal. Remus fought the urge to smile as he let his gaze drift down to her white shirt, the pronounced peaks of her nipples drawing his attention. She swallowed as he lifted his eyes back to hers. “No, Professor.”

“You don’t?” He walked away from his desk and moved around toward Hermione, his body too close as he moved between her and the student desks. “No idea at all?”

“No.” Her voice hardened slightly, insolent even in its breathlessness.

“Does the phrase Vermicious Knids mean anything to you? Ring a bell, perhaps?” He paced the small aisle between his desks and the student ones, brushing past her each time, the swirl of his robe feathering against her bare calves. He stopped directly behind her and put his arms on either side of her, hands curled around the edge of the desk, his cock hard and heavy against the curve of her arse. “Bring to mind a certain impertinent, demanding young woman who is too smart for her own good?”

“They are found in Australia.”

“Which, were that the point that I was trying to make, would be important to know. Instead, you implied that I had little to no idea what I was talking about and sent the class spiraling into a completely useless and unnecessary discussion of geography that, when they’re faced with said species, will do absolutely nothing to keep them from being covered in pale mauve slime, paralyzed and then eaten alive.” He bent his head so that his breath brushed her neck. “Wouldn’t you agree, Miss Granger?”

“I…”

“I believe the answer you’re looking for here is ‘Yes, professor’.” He licked the shell of her ear slowly, closing his eyes as Hermione whimpered. “Or are you looking for punishment a bit more severe than a tongue-lashing?”

“I’m not sure just a tongue-lashing would keep me from being impudent, Professor.” She shifted slightly, her body rubbing against his cock. “As you say, I’m often too smart for my own good.”

“That is very true.” He nipped her earlobe. “Perhaps I’ll have to think of a more fitting punishment then.” He pulled away from her and relished the groan that escaped her lips. He moved back around to his chair and sat down, his legs splayed in front of him, drawing her eyes to the thick bulge of his erection. “Something that you’re not likely to forget. Something that might leave an impression.” Hermione squirmed, her breath shuddering from between her lips. “I think, perhaps, I have just the thing.” He stood and raised a single eyebrow. “Come here, Miss Granger.”

Her voice was barely a whisper. “Yes, Professor.”

Remus guided her in front of him and pulled her robe from her shoulders, letting it pool on the floor at her feet before he placed his hand between her shoulder blades and pushed her forward until she braced herself with her arms on the desk. “Now then.” His hand smoothed down her back and over her arse and thighs until his fingers hooked under the hem of her skirt. “I think that it’s important that we establish what we’re trying to do here, don’t you?”

She nodded, shifting from foot to foot as he lifted her skirt over her hips and draped it across her lower back. Her panties were pale blue and silky as he ran his fingers over them, following the curve of her arse down to the slick wetness between her legs, soaking through the thin fabric.

“I didn’t hear you, Miss Granger.”

Hermione nodded again, her breath shallow and strangled as she tried to keep her head from falling forward as he pressed against the damp material.

Remus pulled his hand away and stepped back. There was a short silence filled only with the stuttered shake of Hermione’s breathing before his voice surrounded her. “I said,” there was a sharp whistle of air followed by the stinging slap of wood as his wand lit on her flesh, “I didn’t hear you, Miss Granger.”

Hermione let out a shocked gasp of breath and her knuckles whitened as she gripped the desk harder. Remus smiled slowly as she didn’t speak, his wand whistling through the air again. She refused to speak, rising higher and higher on her toes until the fifth lash of his wand came down and she cried out. “Yes. Yes, Professor.”

“Very well.” Remus set his wand on the desk next to her hand and hooked his fingers beneath the waistband of her panties, tugging them over her arse and down her legs. “What would be best for everyone – considering the goal of Defense Against the Dark Arts is to keep everyone in this classroom alive should they find themselves faced with said danger – is if you were to keep your…opinions to yourself.”

Hermione nearly straightened as her panties fell to her feet. “Opinions!” Her outrage nearly crackled on her skin. “I’ll have you know, Professor that…” She stopped mid-sentence as his wand lashed across her now-bare skin. “Oh,” she gasped.

“I can see it in the Quibbler now,” he lashed the milk-white flesh again, watching the sharp red line rise. “Hundreds of Hogwarts students left defenseless by bossy,” another lash, “cheeky,” another, “classmate who doesn’t know when not to interrupt her professor.”

Hermione quivered beneath him, her arse crisscrossed with sharp, red lines. The liquid proof of her arousal glistened between her legs, painted her thighs.

“Not the memory you’d like them to have of you, is it, Miss Granger?”

Remus divested himself of his robe and slacks, sitting in the chair behind her. He rolled it forward and grasped her hips, sliding his tongue against her hot flesh. Hermione groaned, her knees shaking, her entire body shaking. He slid back then pulled her toward him, snapping her name when she refused to let go of the desk. She released it immediately and let him bring her closer, easing her down over his legs, her arse pink now in the cool air.

He rubbed his hand carefully over her, muttering soothing spells that eased her pain but didn’t heal her skin. “I asked you a question,” he reminded her softly.

“It wasn’t an opinion, Professor.”

His open palm smacked against her flesh and she arched her back in response. “I don’t believe that’s the point I’m attempting to get across.” He rubbed his hand on her arse. “Is it?”

“No.”

“Well then?”

“I’m not going to admit to being wrong when I…” She sucked in air as he smacked her again. “I wasn’t,” she managed. She rocked against him, grinding down against his thighs. “I wasn’t.”

“Not being wrong isn’t necessarily the opposite of being right though, now is it?” He rested his fingers between the bright pink globes of her arse then let them trail down to the thick wet that drenched her skin, thrusting one finger slowly inside her. “Is it?”

She shook her head, though he was unsure if it was in agreement or refusal to answer. He slid his finger almost free then pushed it in again slowly, his free hand holding the back of her neck. Hermione moans and bends her head, her hands trapped between her breasts and his bare thigh.

“Is it, Hermione?” He pushed another finger in, her tight channel closing around both digits despite the wet ease of penetration. He increased the speed of his thrusts, keeping them shallow as he added a third finger. “Is it?”

“No.” She shook her head, her voice thready and weak, her body shifting as her knees and toes began to lose the strength to support her.

“And what does that mean?” He freed his fingers from inside her and reached to help her stand. She looked down at him; her body trembling and pale save for the faint pink shadow that edged her hips. He guided her toward him and let her sink down, her knees on either side of his thighs. “Miss Granger?”

Hermione edged upward, reaching down to position his cock at her opening before relaxing, gliding down around his shaft. “I was wrong.”

Remus tensed his muscles as she began moving slowly, emotionally spent. He smiled as she swayed forward against him and grasped her hips, holding her as he thrust upward, burying himself inside her until she shivered, stilled and came around him, the rush of renewed heat jolting his orgasm from him as well.

“Something you’d do well to learn, Miss Granger,” he whispered as he pulled her against him, letting her curl up exhausted on his lap. “There’s no crime in being wrong, so long as you’re willing to learn.”

“I might need a few more private instructions to get the lesson to sink in, Professor,” she muttered sleepily against his shoulder.

“Ah, yes,” Remus murmured in her hair as he smoothed it back. “You always were such a slow study.”  



End file.
